


head head heart

by turnyourankle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Canon Compliant, Dom Louis, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Safeword Use, Scratching, Sex Toys, Smut, Sub Harry, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9432161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace. He tries taking the matter in his own hands before Louis intervenes with a plan of his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Nina for the beta and encouragement, and Kati for continuously cheering me on. This was so challenging for me to write so I couldn't have done it without you <3
> 
> And massive thanks to stillatraceofinnocence for the amazing artwork (very NSFW, so safe scrolling).
> 
> I would also like to note that this is most likely milder than you'd expect, but that's exactly how I wanted it to be. Hopefully you'll enjoy it regardless.

Harry comes home to an empty house.

He braces himself against the door before squatting down and untying his shoes. His shoulders are tense, a dull ache blooming in his back as he straightens up. Even his face feels tight and dry from the astringent make up remover that was used to wipe him down. His lips parched and cracking as he licks over them.

He’s in a weird state of overly alert and tired at the same time, his ears still buzzing from the whoops and applause that broke out once they were officially wrapped. It might be part of the reason his back aches; lots of hugs and heavy slaps on the back.

He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and chugs it standing up. The chill makes his teeth throb, but he needs the hydration. He refills it from the tap once he's done, and surveys the kitchen. Louis’ breakfast dishes are still in the sink and there's still coffee in the French press. It's cold to the touch, so definitely not fresh. At least the kitchen island has been wiped down for crumbs.

He pours out the coffee, watching the it circle the drain, and scoops out the grinds before putting the French press in the sink and filling it up with water so it can soak. There’s probably a couple of tea mugs in the bedroom that could use a wash as well. Not enough to load the dishwasher, but almost.

It can wait until after supper. He checks the fridge, and his mouth twists involuntarily. There's not much to work with. He's not particularly hungry, but he wanted Louis to come home to a proper meal. They haven't been able to have a solid night in just the two of them since he started filming; schedules and locations always clashing, and if they serendipitously found themselves at home at the same time Harry would fall asleep after filling his belly.

The cupboards are fairly bare as well, but there’s a half empty jar of curry paste that he can work with, and some old cans of coconut milk. They don’t have noodles but there’s rice and chicken in the freezer which he takes out to thaw. There should be some old fish sauce in the fridge, and maybe some dried mushrooms stowed away.

He has a couple of hours before Louis is due home, this will do fine.

He pulls everything out on the counter, sorting it in order of use, but he can't get started until the chicken has reached a less icey consistency. His feet drag as he shuffles into the living room. There’s a crick in his neck and he loosens the string on his hoodie.

He scans the room with tired eyes, noticing everything that he’s been ignoring for the past couple of months. It’s a bit untidy, magazines strewn across the coffee table, the remotes aren't in their bowl, undoubtedly stuck between some sofa cushions.

He's hit with a full body yawn, a shiver making its way over his chest. He plops himself down on the sofa, stretching out easily.

He's been up since five. The weight of the day, the week, the past few months, is heavy against his temple. He wriggles his socked toes against the armrest. He’ll just stay down for a bit.

His cheek is smooshed uncomfortably against the armrest, but that's a good safeguard that he won't be out for long.

He can multitask later. He can zap the chicken for a few to help the thawing along and get started on cooking. He can clean the kitchen after he's done, and he can throw a load in the wash while the curry thickens. He just needs maybe an hour of rest before returning to regular, non-set life.

He's comfortable when he wakes up. That's different. Soft cashmere against his cheek, and fingers in his hair, rubbing behind his ears. He digs his nose in closer to the firm body pressed against him, inhaling Louis' familiar scent before awakening properly.

“Lou?” His voice is slow and groggy, and he blinks up to a smiling Louis, his mouth tugging up at the corners.

Louis’ fingers catch a particularly sensitive part of his scalp and a whine escapes his throat. He misses the way Louis’ fingers would tangle in his curls and tug, but the scratches are a nice substitute for now.

“Hey, babe.”

His head hurts. He was only supposed to sleep for maybe an hour, but Louis being home means he must’ve been out for far longer. “Time’s it?”

“Half five.”

He got home at five. Louis wasn't due back until around seven.

“Why are you here?” he mumbles, and it sounds far more petulant than he intends, but really. His surprise has been ruined.

Louis laughs. “Missed you too, you oaf,” he says half-heartedly as he shifts on the sofa as if trying to get away from Harry’s grip. How he managed to manoeuver Harry to rest against him without waking him up is impressive, even to Harry's tired brain. Louis continues, “I asked Emma to call me when you were done on set so I could meet up with you.”

“You shouldn’t’ve.” Harry just holds on tighter, rubbing his face against Louis’ cashmere sweater. “Mhm, I was gonna tidy up and make tea by the time you got back. Have a proper supper date.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Louis' tone is scolding, but he scratches Harry's scalp gently. Pressing a kiss against his forehead. “You’re practically falling asleep on me again, you're not fit to be cooking. You’d burn the place down.”

“Rude.”

“Oh, it's okay to joke about me burning the place down but not the other way around? I see how it is, Harold.”

Harry bites him through his sweater, teeth nipping against Louis' ribs. It is rude.

Louis continues, “Besides, I wanted to be the first to congratulate my little movie star on being done filming.”

That wakes him up.

“Christ, don’t call me that.”

“It’s true, though, innit?” He teases. Harry bites him again.

“No.” He burrows his head into Louis’ armpits, the way he does when he’s genuinely embarrassed. Louis chest shakes under him. “Part of an ensemble.”

“Hmm, but movie star sounds better than ensemble cast member, though.” His lips quirk up. “‘Sides, wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” He hauls Harry up and Harry grunts into his sweater before shuffling onto his knees on the sofa. He leans back, dropping his head against the headrest. Angled so he's looking down at Louis, watching his lips twitch with poorly concealed delight.

Louis' gaze is heavy on him, and Harry can tell that he wants to continue showering Harry with praise. Harry's really not in a place to accept it yet. His part might be done, but post is when the heavy lifting starts. And he has no way of affecting that, one way or another.

Louis seems to catch on, taking Harry's hand in his, rubbing at the still partially concealed cross.

“You hungry? I brought pho.”

“You did not.”

“Most certainly did.”

“You hate pho.”

“Ah, but you don’t.” He sounds satisfied, head tilting back.

A lazy smile spread over Harry’s face. “I don’t, yeah.” He licks his lips. But-- “You need to eat, too,” he says, and Louis shakes his head.

“‘M fine. I can eat later.”

“I know you don't mean later when I'm sleeping, because I'm not missing out on a supper date _and_ a cuddle session. “

“It would still count.”

“We can't have a supper date if your not eating.”

Louis purses his mouth before a brief smile flashes over his face. He tips his head back and studies Harry carefully, eyes narrowing.

“Okay. We can make tea together and tidy up and scrub the sink and whatever else you've got in your mind that needs to be done immediately.” His voice lilts, as he's humouring Harry for now. Louis bites his lip.

There is an alternative coming. Even with his pounding head Harry can tell.

“Or?”

Louis’ tongue pokes out of his mouth and Harry can't help his eyes darting down.

“Or…” He starts, fingers back at Harry's temple thumb caressing his hair. A sigh presses against the roof of Harry’s mouth. “You can let me take care of you. If you want.”

His words perk Harry up immeasurably. He knows what Louis means. His mouth going slack at the implication. He hadn't even considered asking for it; it's been so long, no proper time before filming started, and completely out of the question while filming was happening.

Louis is watching him with steady eyes. “The pho will keep for another day, no pressure.”

Harry can't help the way his face contorts. “No it won't.” He pulls at Louis’ collar. He knows Louis knows from the way his tongue pokes out of his mouth. “Got noodle mush the last time you tried to do that.”

Louis shrugs, offering a small smile. His voice is soft with he speaks, a thin thread gathering to keep Harry together. “What do you want, Haz?”

The question is so simple, but Harry can’t think. He blinks slowly. His limbs are still heavy and maybe he’s a bit hungry, but he doesn’t quite know what he wants. He smacks his lips, still dry. “I don't know.”

Louis looks at him patiently. Harry knows that's not enough. He needs to be clear; Louis unwilling to do anything without explicit approval from him. His throat scratches as he speaks, “I want you to decide.”

Louis inhales sharply, bottom lip rolling into his mouth.

“Okay, kitten.” Louis says with a squeeze of his shoulder. The pet name sending a shiver down Harry’s spine.

He nods at that. A murmured, “Okay,” escaping his lips. He's ready for whatever Louis has planned.

Louis cups his head and presses his mouth against Harry's, a welcome home kiss that burns through his mouth and settles deeply against his spine. He wants to pull Louis closer but he's already at his mercy; unwilling to make any choices of his own.

Louis’ tongue laves hotly against his mouth as he opens up for him, already hungry for the high. He doesn’t chase after Louis when he pulls away.

“Get undressed, and put your clothes in the wash.” He smacks his lips, eyes turning to slits as he thinks. “Go sit down in the bathtub and wait for me.”

Harry nods but Louis waits for his verbal response, a brief, “Okay,” before getting up and leaving.

Harry's already feeling more awaken, skin humming from want.

He doesn’t waste any time, getting up and heading to the laundry room. He slides his hoodie off carefully, untying the strings, before folding it into the washing machine. He takes off the rest of his clothes with the same precaution; he’s in no rush.

He wants to do this properly for Louis, is the thing. He gets a thrill from obeying even when Louis isn't in the room, knowing Louis can rest safe knowing that he's following directions without being supervised.

He's more alert than he’s been in days when he sits down in the bath, the ceramic cold and sticking to his overheated skin. He sits with his back straight, knees up in front of him. He stares at the wall in front of him rather than the door; it won't make Louis appear faster, and if he seems impatient Louis will be disappointed.

Louis has changed when he walks into the room. Harry can tell even from his periphery, as he struggles to keep staring straight ahead.

Louis plugs the bath, and starts the water, using his forearm to check the temperature. His rolled up sleeve getting wet as the water splashes on him, but he pays it no attention. His hand dipping into the quickly pooling water.

Harry sits still through it all, the water comfortable as it rises around him.

He doesn't look at Louis when he moves away to gather oils and bath salts, carefully measuring them before dropping them into the bath, using his hand to disperse them.

“At ease,” Louis says when he turns the tap off, and Harry relaxes, shoulders dropping immediately. He settles back a bit, leaning against the edge and tipping his head over the lip. Louis' placed a folded towel there so his neck doesn't strain, and he sighs heavily.

Louis is sat next to him, and he has the bowl of pho in his hands. “Open up,” he instructs and Harry lets his mouth fall open. “Tell me when you’ve had enough.”

His eyes drop shut as Louis feeds him, gently tipping over the soup into his open mouth. The soup is pleasant, flush radiating from the inside. The water is warm and soothing and he stretches out, pushing his toes against the edge of the tub.

He still hasn’t had enough by the time Louis nudges the bowl against Harry’s hands. “Can’t quite do the rest,” Louis says, “You’ll have to do it.”

His thumb presses against Harry's temple, tucking away some damp strands of hair away from his face.

Harry downs the pho hungrily, catching the slices of thin beef between his teeth, letting them melt on his tongue. He doesn’t care that he’s being messy, broth dripping off of noodles as he slurps them down loudly. It’s just enough to sate his hunger, not filling him up completely.

Normally Louis would complain at the sound: but he keeps silent, stirring the bath water to dissolve the salts.

“Mhm, I see the tension has moved elsewhere,” Louis says, and Harry’s eyes drop to his lap, to where Louis is looking.

Oh.

He’s hard, cockhead poking out of the soapy water as he raises his hips. It’s not uncommon for Louis to draw him a bath, but usually it’s after they play, not before or during. He’s not used to this, being coddled before anything has even happened.

He licks his lips, stomach settled, and a different hunger setting in. He's a bit embarrassed; caught out. But Louis seems undisturbed, lips twitching. He wipes his hands down on one of the towels he's gathered next to him.

“Can you stay still?”

Harry brings the bowl to his mouth, taking a large gulp to finish off the soup before handing it off to Louis. He nods.

“Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Close your eyes.”

Louis’ hand presses against the back of his head tilting it down, his chin pressing against his chest.

His hands are firm against the back of his neck, digging into the muscles until the sharp bite of Louis nails dig into his shoulder blade.

He seems to be tracing the muscles, and Harry inhales shakily. He can practically imagine red scratches in the wake of Louis' nails. If he paid attention he might be able to figure out a pattern. But he's content with the pulse in his skin, the slight drag of Louis' nails claiming him.

His back must be covered by the time Louis stops, a faint burn spreading over his shoulders and back. Harry's breathing is laboured, his entire body pulsing with want.

“Up,” Louis presses his palms down against his shoulders before pulling away. Harry finds the lip of the tub with slippery hands, raising himself up carefully.

He can hear the water slurp down the drain as Louis take out the stopper.

His eyes are still closed as a towel wraps around him. Fluffy and soft as Louis rubs him down thoroughly, turning him around.

He instructs Harry to hold on to the towel and makes him cling onto his back straight from the tub, thighs pressed tightly against Louis’ hips as he carries him out. Louis feels steady under him, his smaller frame easily shouldering Harry's dead weight.

He loves being carried like this, being able to nose along Louis’ neck and breathe in the smell of him. He wraps his arms tighter around Louis.

He's still hard, erection pressing againstLouis’ back and he did his best not to whimper at the friction. He squeezes his eyes shut harder, until spots of light splatter behind his eyelids.

Louis manages to finagle him onto the bed, and scrubs him down once more with the towel, catching against the sensitive skin of his back.

He cards his fingers through Harry's hair, an old habit from when he'd wash Harry's hair and prep the curls with hairdresser oil. Still so familiar, Harry melts into the touch.

“Feeling better?” Louis' voice is raspy, no edge to it.

“Hmm,” he hums in response. He could use some relief elsewhere, but he doesn't say. There's no way Louis can miss his throbbing hard on.

All Louis says is, “Good.” His palm presses hot against his chest. “Lay down on your back.”

Harry obliges, sheets cool against the flaming skin of his back. Louis hands are at Harry's flanks instantly.

They're rough as they push into the muscle, and Harry's eyes flutter open momentarily before he remembers Louis’ order to keep them shut.

He bites down on his lip, the feel of Louis' callused fingers working in and around his ribs hypnotising. Louis scratches a nail around Harry's butterfly, and continues down the centre of his belly. Harry's stomach flutters, a fresh gasp escaping his lips.

Harry’s at the edge, the light prickle on his skin pushing him closer to blissful nothingness. His cock is still hard but he can barely feel it, the mere touch of of Louis’ hand setting him ablaze. “Lou…”

“How are you doing, babe?” Louis' voice is raspy and a bit hesitant, a hand gently pulling Harry away from his clouded bliss.

“More would be perfect.” He tries for an inviting smile, dimples denting his cheeks. But Louis chuckles; seeing through him.

“Greedy, greedy boy, aren’t you?” He punctuates his words, raking his short nails across Harry’s belly.

Louis shuffles farther down the bed between Harry's legs, pushing them apart.

“Bend your knees,” Louis tells him, and Harry obliges. His nails bite at the edge of his hips, crescents digging in.

Harry wishes he could see what he looks like, marked up with nothing but the press of Louis’ nails. It's not hard enough that the marks will last long, though. They'll be long gone before morning.

Louis must be able to read his mind because he clamps his mouth down on his hip, teeth biting into his flesh.

Harry bucks into it, the pain sharp and focused.

One of Louis’ slick fingers prod at his hole and it's nowhere near hard enough to push in. Harry wants more; wants to be filled up and claimed and quieted down.

“Lou…” he starts, and Louis bites down harder, mouth slack against his skin. His mouth unlatches from him with a wet smack.

“Greedier than I thought.” He punctuates his words with a deep thrust of his fingers and Harry stills, at his mercy. Harry grabs the headboard, doing his best to remain as still as he can.

Louis’ fingers are strong and nimble, pressing

He's so close. So very close.

Louis keeps working at him, mumbling unintelligible words at his groin. He still hasn't touched Harry's cock. Just breathes on it hotly while he works his fingers inside Harry's arse.

He hits Harry’s prostate, and Harry spasms around him. He gasps, curling his toes, digging his heels into Louis’ back. They slip over his sweaty skin, and Louis slurps wetly around his fingers, merciless.

“Please, need your cock.”

Louis pulls out, and sits up, using his thighs to spread Harry's legs even wider. The press of him is insistent, a steady weight to ground him and keep him in place.

He must be bent down uncomfortably, teeth catching Harry's nipple as his cock presses into Harry's hole, slowly, setting his nerves aflame.

Louis grunts when he gets in all the way. Harry's mouth is caught in a silent gasp, settling his legs around Louis' hips.

“So good for me, kitten,” Louis whispers before setting a slow pace.

Harry shivers. Mouth going slack and a low moan falling out.

The drag of Louis’ cock inside of him is good, a solid weight pushing him closer and closer to orgasm. But it's not quite enough. The drag is achingly slow, and while the pleasure crests inside of him, it's not enough for his brain to break loose.

He squeezes his thighs around Louis’ hips, urging him on to go faster. He can’t help but rock back against him.

“Being greedy, again, aren’t you?” It comes out choppy and strained, Louis’ body hot as he covers Harry. He can practically see it in his mind's eye, the way Louis’ eyes must be screwed shut, mouth slack, sweat dripping down his neck.

He grips the sheets harder, a keen low in his throat.

He's still grounded when Louis wraps his hand around his dick and it proves too much, the touch sharp and urgent.

He comes with a shout, jaw snapping open. He struggles to keep his eyes shut as the breath is pounded out of him, sweat drops of pearling at the corner of his eyes, sliding down his face.

He must miss when Louis comes because he pulls out suddenly. Harry’s legs drop, boneless to the bed, and he can feel his orgasm down to his ribs as his chest rattles.

Louis moves down, pressing kisses agains thte inside of Harry’s thighs before draping his legs over his shoulders. His mouth is at his hole, and Harry wants to twist away. But Louis’ tongue is soft against his raw skin.

He's gentle and thorough, wet sounds echoing through the room as he cleans Harry up.

It's not enough to get Harry hard again but that's not the point. He's pliant and heavy under Louis' touch.

Harry's breath evens out and he lays still as Louis works his lips over him. Moving up to his belly and laving up the come splattered across his torso.

Harry opens his eyes, watching as Louis noses his way up to his face. Fingers delicately pushing damp strands of hair from his forehead.

He looks as sated as Harry feels. Eyelids drooping heavily and mouth slack.

“Alright, Haz?” Louis asks, eyes darting over Harry’s face. Looking for something. Harry nods quickly. He’s good; he didn’t have anything to come back from.

He smacks his lips. “Yeah I-- I. I didn't go under or anything.” He tries not to sound put out, adding a smile. “Don't need to be coddled.”

“I know. Doesn't mean I can't ask how you are does it?” He gathers Harry up in his arms, pressing multiple kisses on his face while Harry giggles breathlessly. “Doesn't mean I don't want to coddle you.”

“Okay, okay!” He exclaims, laughter following quickly.

Louis' mouth landing on his jaw. “Well?” He asks again.

He has to take a second, stretching out his fingers, toes and jaw. “I'm good, better. Much better. Still very tired, but better.”

 

Louis seems to hesitate for a second before speaking, “Good.” He thumbs at Harry’s temple, brushing against the arch of his brow.

Louis kisses his cheek, before getting up, gathering the comforter and sheets that had been discarded off the bed.

Harry blinks as he spreads his arms and legs out over the bed. He smooths his hand on the bedding, having just noticed how crisp the sheets are. Realisation hits. “You changed the bedding.”

Louis is back, pulling their sheets over them and tucking them in. He nuzzles Harry's neck. “'F course. First full night of cuddles with no ungodly wake up calls? Deserves some nice clean sheets, that.”

It's an echo of what Harry's been saying and his heart swells in his chest. If he had more energy he'd roll on top of Louis and smother him with kisses as a thank you. But as it is he tilts his head up just enough to kiss the tip of his nose.

  

 

//

 

_I think you should paddle me._

That's the text Harry ends up sending Louis as he sits poolside after his third dip of the day.

He drops his phone next to him, and breathes in shakily. It's a bit of an escalation to say the least. His previous text was just asking Louis if he wanted anything particular for supper. Which he hadn’t answered, so, it’s not like Harry can be blamed for the change in subject.

It might come off a bit provocative, though.

It's not that he doesn't think Louis will be receptive, it’s just that Harry’d always been hesitant to being hit with an object, any object. The concept felt too much like punishment; it seemed cold and impersonal whenever he'd seen it in porn. The thought made him squirm, but not in a good way.

He much preferred the marks Louis could leave with his own body, hot and passionate. Desperate, and almost uncontrollable. Like he wanted to consume him.

He shivers just thinking about it, Louis' sucking bruises to the inside of his thighs because he can't get enough, biting against the nape of his neck where everyone could see.

But it seems to work for so many other people. They must be onto something, right? He tries to imagine it, a paddle bearing down on his bum, him trying to squirm away. The pain can't be much worse than one of Louis' bites, or a nipple twist. And yet, it makes his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

It might be just what they need, though, to push against their boundaries a bit. Might bring him down with one hard smack. That's the hope, at least.

The sliding door squeaks open, and Harry squints against the sun. It's Louis, of course; couldn't be anyone else. But the surprise and guilt pulls at his chest.

“You’re supposed to be working,” Harry says, voice flat. “You said it yourself, a home office is still an office.”

Louis tips his head, an eyebrow quirking. He waves his phone about, before dropping onto the sun chair next to Harry. “This seemed to require a direct response.”

“I don't mean now.” He pinches his lips, frowning.

“Even if you did it wouldn't happen now.”

“I really didn't mean to distract you. I just needed to put it out there. For your consideration.”

“Harry. Did you really think you could ask me to do something that's been a hard no since the start and expect me to wait until supper to talk about it?”

He's right. Harry suddenly feels exposed, and a bit daft. He thought texting Louis his suggestion would sterilise it a bit. Turn it into just words on a screen, without an implication on their relationship. Something that could be put out there and weighted and agreed upon (or dismissed) easily. But that’s just not how they work. Never had. And now he’d interrupted Louis’ work because he wanted to try getting paddled.

Christ.

He tongues the straw in his iced coffee. Folding his legs and pressing his knees against his chest. His skin is still damp. Even in the heat, he feels a chill. Louis is watching him carefully.

“Okay, but we can talk about it later. When you're not busy. I just wanted to put it out there. As poorly thought out as that was.”

“We can talk about it now.” Louis leans in close, expression open, more than a hint of concern tugging at the corner of his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know, H. It just came out of nowhere, yeah? Can you give me some context?”

He hesitates for a second, trying to choose his words. “Maybe we need to shake things up. Like, maybe I’m immune to you or something.”

“Immune.” Louis frowns, and Christ. That came out wrong. Harry shakes his head.

“Shit, no I don’t mean like that. I mean like. Yesterday was _so_ , so good.” He emphasises by licking his lips. “But maybe we've hit a plateau. And there must be a reason why everyone’s into that. Maybe that's what I need to go under. But only if you’re okay with it.”

“Doesn't happen every time, does it?”

“No... but you'd think after going without for months it would've.”

Louis scratches the back of his neck. His chest heaving as he exhales heavily. His shoulders roll back.

“Just to clarify you mean-- not like, a light slap? You mean a proper spanking-- Paddling, whatever.”

“As proper as it can get, yes.”

“You’ve looked into this, then?”

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly. Briefly, he had, this morning. It still counts.

Louis sucks his cheeks in and leans back, eyes still trained on Harry's face.

“I mean we can try it.” He studies Harry carefully, as if looking for something he doesn’t want to ask. He must sense Harry’s eagerness, though, because he asks. “How about tonight?”

Harry has to steady his breath, ribs feeling too tight. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Okay.” Louis rubs his thighs before getting up. “No more texting.” He presses a kiss to Harry’s temple before going back inside.

 

 

//

 

The slap stings.

Of course it does. Harry grimaces at the flash of heat flaring up on his arse. Louis slaps him one more time on his other cheek, and Harry bites the inside his mouth. It’s fine; he knew this going in.

Louis soothes it with his palm, wide strokes on his aching skin. This Harry likes. More of that would be nice. But that’s not what they planned.

Louis shifts, reaching next to him. They’d discussed this; Louis would warm up with two manual spanks, and then he’d move on to the paddle for ten. Or well, the flat wooden spoon that they'd deemed sufficient to use as a paddle after a bit of research.

The spoon hurts more, landing on his already stinging flesh. Harry cringes and shifts minutely.

Louis must sense his hesitation because he asks, “Another?” Harry nods jerkily, not wanting his voice to betray him. Louis had wanted to go over every single detail beforehand so Harry knows what to expect. And he wants to go through with this. He'll start liking this any second; it'll fade away and the adrenaline will be replaced by endorphins or something like that. It won’t feel like Louis is reprimanding him, it’ll be like… well, like something he wants. He can take it until that kicks in.

It’s barely anything, anyway. A handful of slaps and hits is child's play.

The next hit lands on his other arse cheek and he tries not to think about it. Another and he shifts, uncomfortable. It's not even that painful, it's just not enjoyable. He can't see Louis from the way he's laying, can't tell whether he likes it or not. If Louis likes it, he could try a bit longer.

His hard on is flagging, and Louis is catching on, waiting for him to speak.

Harry doesn’t, so Louis hits him again, jolting a yelp out of Harry, and he can’t.

“Stop,” he says, defeated and drops his head to the bed, scrambling off of Louis’ lap.

Louis’ palms are hot on his shoulders as he squeezes them and waits for Harry to look up.

“I think we should keep this in the ‘no’ pile,” Louis says, and Harry nods against the covers. He’s embarrassed, a bit, that he insisted on something he so clearly couldn't handle. Especially when it was hardly anything.

Louis rests his forehead against the top of his back. “I’m sorry that didn’t work.”

“Was my idea.” Which makes it worse, really. He doesn't say that, of course.

Louis hums, thumb finding the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Hey.” He urges Harry to look at him. “I only wanted to try because you wanted to, okay? I’m not missing out on anything.”

They share a small smile. Neither of them are hard anymore—he's not actually sure if Louis ever was, can't recall anything pressing against his belly. Just the hard stings across his bum.

Louis kisses Harry’s temple before getting off the bed. Harry sits up, watching Louis’ hips sway as he walks out.

Maybe there’s no point in even trying anymore. Maybe their kink phase is over. Do people grow out of kinks? Maybe his brain just won’t let him go under and he just has to deal with it.

Louis returns with a bottle of water and a bowl of pineapple chunks.

“Louis…” Harry starts, the embarrassment burning hot in his chest. They didn’t even do anything. He definitely doesn’t need his blood sugar raised. “I don’t need that.”

“Everyone needs to be hydrated, silly,” Louis teases. He takes a gulp of the water before offering it to Harry and he drinks. Watches as Louis takes a chunk of pineapple between his fingers, the juice running down his lips as he eats it. He offers a piece to Harry. “And there's nothing wrong with a snack.”

He grabs the tube of aloe he'd taken out and gestures for Harry to roll over. Harry's chest is tight, stomach clenching. He got hit a handful of times, there’s no need for all this fuss. But he knows Louis won’t let it go so he rolls over onto his belly, bowl of pineapple in front of him.

Louis rubs the gel between his hands and spreads it over Harry’s arse. “Feel good?” Louis asks as he massages it into Harry’s skin.

“Mhm.” He melts under Louis’ touch easily, spreading his legs apart a little bit and flexing his toes.

The air isn’t charged anymore but he’s feeling nice and pliant under Louis’ touch. He spreads Harry’s cheeks and lets his thumb dip into Harry’s crack causing him to jerk against the bed below him.

Louis pulls away, working at the back of his thighs. Thumbs digging into the crease below his arse. But Harry's hungry for more and spreads his thighs.

He can hear Louis swallow thickly behind him. And he knows he won’t do anything unprompted; not now that they’re out of the scene.

“Can you--” Harry starts, turning around. Louis' eyes are wide, mouth open. “Your mouth, can I?”

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, his lips smacking wetly. And Christ, him holding back and wanting to make sure Harry's okay is the hottest thing.

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh, and shifts so he can reach under his torso, cupping his cock, hard again under Louis' ministrations.

“Can’t say no to that,” Louis mumbles, and fits himself between Harry’s legs. He doesn’t waste any time spreading his cheeks and pressing his mouth against Harry’s hole.

It’s a brief kiss, followed by a nuzzle and hot breath blown against his rim. Louis laves his tongue against him before sucking at his hole with no warning.

“Ah! Louis--” Harry starts, jerking against him. “'M gonna come too fast. Wanna last.”

He can tell Louis smirks against his skin. “Budge up,” he says, and Harry rolls over. He gets a good look at Louis like this and he looks about ready to be wrecked, hair a mess already, and pupils dilated. He grasps the base of Harry's cock, and Harry's hips twitch into the touch.

Harry has to make an effort to speak, fisting the sheets. “Bring your arse up here, Lou.”

Louis blinks, and licks his lips before turning around, straddling Harry’s face gracelessly.

He doesn’t waste time pressing his mouth against Harry’s balls, suckling each one delicately before swallowing down his cock.

Harry has to concentrate on Louis’ arse in front of him, he thumbs apart his cheeks blowing air against his fluttering rim. He bites the side of his arse, watching how Louis’ muscles twitch under the attention.

Louis does something with his tongue, and Harry gasps under the touch. He can practically feel the satisfied smirk on Louis’ face.

He can’t stand for that, the tip of his tongue pressing firmly against Louis’ hole. It must come as a shock, because he spasms and Harry has to hold him still. He groans, long and low, thighs shaking around Harry's neck.

“Want me to stop?”

Louis shakes his head. Harry’s cock slips out of his mouth. “No, please,” he says hoarsely. Harry digs back in, eliciting an, “Ah!” from Louis who tries to remain still. He still has a hand on Harry's cock, but he's barely moving it, gently squeezing whenever Harry hits a particular spot.

Louis' thighs are trembling, and Harry can’t get enough, wants Louis to be unable to hold himself up. Wants him limp and begging and at his mercy.

He loves having Louis like this, out of control. Louis’ whimpers easily as Harry sucks at his rim before wetly smacking his tongue against him, trying to open him up.

“Lou, can I--” he starts, stopping himself just to suck on his middle finger. It's loud and Louis must know what's coming. Still, he circles it around Louis’ wet hole carefully. It’s slippery and tender and so fucking inviting. He pushes against it; not enough to breach the rim, but enough to be felt.

“Ah-- Yes.” Louis' answer comes out more as a gasp than anything, but he spreads his legs, and mouths at Harry's hip.

He slips his finger inside with one push, mouthing at the spot where his finger disappears into Louis. He pumps an easy rhythm, crooking his finger when he feels Louis go lax above him. He jerks again, pressing his arse into Harry’s face.

“Harry--” he starts, and Harry shushes him.

The lube is still on the bed, and Harry manages to reach out with one hand, face still buried against Louis’ arse. It’s uncomfortable, but he manages to snick the cap open and coat two of his fingers.

Louis clenches his arse in anticipation and Harry bites down on the firm flesh, his neck already getting sore from the angle. But it’s bloody worth it to watch two of his fingers disappear into Louis’ greedy arse.

He doesn’t even care that his cock is forgotten. It’s as hard as ever, and Louis’ breath is hot against it. It’s not what he wants anymore. He only has one goal in mind and it’s right in front of him. He quickly adds a third finger and Louis’ breathing gets more laboured and high. He spreads them as much as he can, Louis' arse tight and sucking him in. “Gorgeous,” he mumbles, before diving back in, mouth hot against his fingers.

“Harry, come on.” He tries to sound stern, but the catch in his breath betrays him.

“Hmm. In a rush?”

“No.” He scrapes his nails along Harry's thigh. Harry wants to laugh.

“Certainly sounds like it.”

Louis retaliates by sucking down Harry’s cock again, cheeks hollowing out quickly. Harry’s hips chase the feeling involuntarily, which tells him that yes, Louis is bloody impatient.

He smacks Louis’ hip, and he gets the hint moving off of Harry. He stays on the bed, on all fours. He throws a defiant look over his shoulder. “Well?”

Harry grunts, and adds more lube to his cock before lining himself up, and pressing in. He can feel the moment Louis lets go, head dropping and a shiver passing over his back. His arms shake as he tries to hold himself up.

Harry has to concentrate to keep his thrusts slow and steady, not wanting to give in to Louis’ demands just yet.

Besides, he wants to enjoy this. The way Louis is hot and tight around him, practically sucking him into his body. The obscene curve of his hips and the way each thrust of Harry’s hips cause a whine to erupt from his throat.

“So gorgeous like this, babe, your arse is made for this.” Louis shudders at his words and clenches tighter around him. Like he doesn’t want Harry to ever leave his body.

He loves it when Louis is needy like this.

“Haz, please-- I can’t--” Louis stops speaking when Harry wraps his hand around his cock, and Louis makes an effort to bounce back against him. He can’t hold back much longer, and starts to thrust harder. Hard enough that Louis’ legs give out and they collapse on the bed.

Harry tips them over to their sides, and Louis curls in on himself, a high reedy whine escaping when Harry nails his prostate.

He pumps Louis harder, fingers squeezing against his flesh. He seems unable to decide whether to thrust into Harry's hand or against his cock, whimpers being fucked out of him.

Louis lifts his arm, reaching behind him to touch Harry’s face. He hits Harry’s lips and Harry nips at his thumb, sucking it into his mouth.

“Christ, Harry.”

He can feel his orgasm building, each nerve sparking as he drives into Louis, each hitched breath bringing Harry closer. His limbs are all tense, sparks pooling in his lower belly, wanting to get out.

He drives in once more stilling his hips as deep as possible as he comes, Louis clenching around him painfully. He twists his grip around Louis’ cock, thumbing at the head and he spills over Harry’s hand as he keens.

He rolls onto his stomach, and Harry winces when his cock slips out, spent and sensitive.

His pulse is still pounding, veins humming from the high.

Louis huffs out a breath, shuffling so his nose is pressed right against Harry’s underarm. .

“Not quite what I had in mind.” His back is glistening, fine hairs on his neck raised at “Bit better, perhaps.” He adds, fingers stroking Harry’s temple. He smacks his lips, gaze heavy. “You know there’s other stuff we can try, that we haven’t, right?”

Harry’s throat is tight, and he swallows. “It’s fine.”

“Haz, come on. Might be fun anyway. Can mix and match, too. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not getting anything out of this.”

“It’s not that-- It’s just--”

“You want to go under, I know. And I want to help you get there. Always been curious about wax meself, could paint a proper rainbow on your back. Or tie you up proper so you don’t have to try not to move, you just won’t be able to.”

Harry shivers under Louis touch, chest filling with air. God. He loves Louis so much. “If you want.”

Louis hums, fingertips skating across Harry’s bicep.

“I’ll think of something, yeah?”

Instead of answering, he brings Louis’ hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against his palm.

 

 

//

 

Louis doesn’t bring up any of his possible ideas again, and neither does Harry, not wanting to be disappointed again.

The point with Harry having time off was to recover mentally and physically from filming, but how could he, when the nagging in his head is on an endless loop? He's already redecorated the living room, started planning the landscaping next spring, tried and failed to get into Nick Cave's novel and gone to his last physio appointment.

Harry convinces Liam to take a break from recording when he's town to grab lunch, just the two of them. Liam's excitable and raving about how nice it is to get to actually record in a real studio. He gives Harry a tour, and raises his eyebrows, declaring, “This is where the magic happens,” and patting Harry heavily on the back. He raves about how they've got a deal with Grolsch which means there's always beer in the fridge, which is great for creativity, apparently, and he barely touches his lunch.

“Would’ve thought you’d be more relaxed with all your downtime,” Liam says before bringing his beer to his mouth. He's watching Harry carefully. If even he notices something, Harry must be really off.

“Had a busy night's, all.” Being consumed by intrusive thoughts, sure, but no less busy.

Liam shakes his head, a bark of laughter escaping his mouth before he downs half his beer.

“Nice to know some things never change,” he says with a wink.

Right.

He smiles tightly, and prompts Liam to tell him more about the producers he's chosen. He welcomes the change of topic, and his excitement is contagious, at least for the rest of their lunch. Harry takes Liam up on the offer of one of the free beers, downing it uneasily.

Maybe it was just a phase and he's grown out of it.

Maybe, even though he craves being able to let go, his brain isn't with it anymore.

Maybe he’s doomed to be putting things on loop in his head and worry endlessly about things that are out of his hands, without the satisfactory off-switch to his brain.

He can live with that, he tells himself, not for the first time. The spinach in his salad sticking in his throat. At least Liam doesn't know what's actually wrong, and no one else needs to, ever.

He drives the long way home, psyching himself to tell Louis that maybe they shouldn't scene anymore. Louis hasn’t brought up any of the scenarios he’d mentioned again, and Harry’s not sure if it’s because he’s forgotten, or just doesn’t want to… Or can’t handle the disappointment of not being able to get Harry where he needs to be. He can handle living without subspace, but he doesn't know if he can scene knowing it won't happen again.

Louis is in the bedroom, Macbook on his lap and shirtless. His hair a bit damp and ankles crossed. He looks delicate, but even like this he looks like he could hold Harry down until he couldn’t remember his own name.

Christ, how Harry wants that to happen again.

His eyes flick up at Harry when he walks in.

“Good lunch?”

“Mhm.” Harry knees his way onto the bed, cuddling in close just to press a kiss against Louis' temple.

“D’you have a lot to drink?” He asks, closing his laptop and setting it aside. His face tilted in Harry's direction.

“Just one beer.”

Louis licks his lips. He takes hold of Harry's hand, fingers twining with his. “I’ve been thinking,”

 

The way he says it sends a chill down his spine, and Harry’s nerves are on high alert immediately.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when we first got the collar? How easily you went under?”

Harry nods, a zip of anticipation flaring over his skin, followed by Louis’ fingers trailing over his shoulders. “Yes.”

Louis licks his lips. “I have an idea. I know you’ve been… stressed.”

“Yes,” Harry repeats, his throat clicking as he swallows.

“We don’t have anything else planned for the rest of the day. If you want to try--”

“Yes.” Another try can't hurt, surely. Not if Louis has something particular in mind.

A smile tugs at Louis’ lips. “I haven’t even said what I’m thinking about, Haz.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem,” he rushes out. “I don’t have to know. I can always say stop, right?”

“Right.” Louis’ gaze hot on Harry’s face. Trying to decipher him.

“Unless you wanted to gag me…” He doesn’t quite think it’s what Louis has in mind, but still.

Louis chuckles, sensing his eagerness, no doubt. “Okay, you’re gonna have to calm down or it will never work,” he says, patiently. “There's no rush, babe.”

His hand dips under Harry's shirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of belly, the coarse hairs standing up at the attention. He can't trust himself to speak, so he nods.

“I might have something prepared, but you need to stay calm.”

Harry’s breath catches with anticipation. “Yes, okay.”

Louis bites down on his lips, and gets off the bed, disappearing into the walk in closet. Just watching him gives Harry a headrush he feels in the tip of his fingers.

Louis returns with a couple of slim boxes that he puts on the bed.

“I want you to put these on. There is no right or wrong way. Whatever you do will be perfect, as long as you’re comfortable. Put the boxes away under the bed when you've changed. And then I want you to kneel at the foot of bed and wait for me.”

He leans up and presses a kiss against Harry’s forehead, branding him. “Sound good?”

Harry nods, mouth dry with excitement. Louis squeezes his arm, which means he wants to hear it. “Yes. It sounds perfect.”

Louis face splits into a blinding smile, and his exhale rattles out of his chest. “You can wear your collar, too, if you want.”

Harry nods. It makes him so happy to see Louis like this, excited to be doing this for him.

Harry’s veins are humming as he watches Louis leave. His hands tremble as he opens the box.

Delicately laid out on a bed of satin is what looks like a harness and suspenders. The leather is soft to the touch, delicate, thin straps and rings fitting perfectly in his hands.

He can't get undressed fast enough. Louis hadn't specified, but he discards his clothes into the hamper.

He puts on his collar first, buckling it in and thumbing against the clasp. The leather of the harness is cool as he slips it on, the straps crossing his chest and grounding him. The suspenders need some slight adjustment, and he tightens them with a racing pulse.

The thigh cuffs dig in as he kneels and he tries to focus on that as he waits, the anticipation a distraction he can't afford. He's getting hard just thinking about Louis picking these out, and going through the trouble of getting the exact size, since they fit perfectly.

Louis’ emotions are so surface when it comes to Harry, but when they play like this he can’t let his mask slip. So Harry knows he might have to wait for a while: however long it might take him to get ready. He must want to give Harry some time to get used to the gear, too. A chill rakes over his chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He clasps his hands behind his back, spreading his knees wider so he can feel the suspenders strain, distracting him from the ache in his groin. He presses his forehead against the foot of the bed.

There's no sound when Louis comes in; their door properly oiled and Louis' soft gait working in his favour.

But Harry can sense it. Can practically feel the air getting charged by his presence.

He stays still, ready to wait as long as necessary. Letting Louis have his fill. That's what he's here for.

“Lovely,” Louis says in a whisper, voice hoarse.

His palm is warm and heavy against Harry's neck, thumbing the short hairs of his nape. He continues to pet him, fingers massaging his skull, and Harry could purr.

Harry bites his lip to stop himself from pressing into Louis’ hand. Letting Louis decide how much he should get.

He must sense that Harry wants that, though, because the pressure is gone and he tugs at the leather straps crossing his back. He pulls and Harry moans quietly.

“Do you like your present?” Louis asks, one finger tracing the underside of the leather.

“Yes.”

“Fits quite nicely.” His nails dig in under his shoulder blades. “Hmm, doesn't quite go with your collar but I thought you might like it.”

“I do.”

“Stand up for me.” Louis instructs. “No hands.”

Harry's balance is a little off kilter, all the blood having rushed to his cock. He keeps his hands firmly grasped behind his back and sways forward before getting up.

He doesn't have to look down to know that he's already embarrassingly hard. Cock red and angry and jutting up against the top of his suspenders.

He wants relief. And to be touched. By Louis, preferably.

But more than all that he wants to be good.

And all he had to do is listen.

He watches Louis strip down the bed, and gather supplies from one of the night stands, placing them on top of his laptop.

He settles against the headboard. His gaze hot as it rakes over Harry's body. He's still wearing joggers, but Harry can tell he's half-hard already, cock tenting tenting the fabric.

He spreads his legs, and pats between them. “C'mere.”

Harry follows the instructions, coming up on the bed.

“You're going to come three times. Three different ways. You get to choose the order.”

Harry licks his lips before pressing them together tightly.

“Cock, fingers, toy. Which order do you want them in?”

“What about your mouth?”

Louis smirks. He pulls Harry roughly onto his lap, the position making Harry's thighs ache in his suspenders.

“Gonna be putting that to use elsewhere, aren't I,” Louis says, before biting down at the junction of his neck, just below his collar. He's unprepared, and the sting radiates throughout his chest.

Louis watches him patiently. There's no right or wrong answer, he knows. Louis wouldn't have left the choice up to him otherwise, not without some prodding. But he has to choose strategically. Louis bites down closer to his shoulder, teeth sawing into his flesh. He shudders under the attention.

“Toy, cock, fingers.”

Louis quirks his eyebrows, cheeks denting as he sucks them in. “Very well.”

He brings out lube and a toy from the basket, placing them into Harry's hands. It's one of their smaller dildos, smooth and velvety to the touch, one that requires very little prep.

He must've known that Harry would pick the toy first.

“Alright, kitten, whenever you're ready.” He leans back and watches, as Harry pumps some lube into his palm. “Give me a show.”

He slicks up two fingers and reaches behind himself, fingertips circling his rim. He bites down on his lip, eyes steadily locked with Louis'.

He's about to take hold of his aching dick with his other hand when Louis slaps it away.

“No,” he reprimands, voice sharp. “No touching your cock.”

Harry's breath catches, but he nods. “Okay.”

He grips the headboard with his free hand instead. Louis' eyes following the line of his arm. He nuzzles against his armpit, nose pressing against his bicep before he bites him again. Harry can't help but shout, and his grip tightens.

He's still so hard, so turned on, it probably won't take much. Not with Louis staring at him intently. He works one of his fingers into his arse, quickly getting used to the sensation so he can fit in a second one.

The position is uncomfortable to begin with, and a bit unsteady, but his harness and suspenders make it all the more so. He likes it, though. The constraints reminding him that his body actually has edges. That's there exists an outside to him, that he won't float away, and it keeps all his nerves awakened.

More so when Louis slips his fingers underneath the chest straps, his mouth still wet and shar against his arm. Leaving a trail of bite marks as he relentlessly nibbles on his skin.

Louis manages to lift them up enough that a nail digs into his skin. Just a press, enough to leave an indent, surely, and Harry shivers under his touch. He has to slow down the pumping of his fingers.

“Am I distracting you?”

“No...” Harry lies, and continues to thrust once, twice more before pulling out and grabbing the dildo. He slicks it up easily as Louis continues to press his nails into Harry's chest. Covering all the skin covered by the suspenders so that the leather rubs him raw.

Once he gets seated on the dildo Louis' hands are off his chest, instead cradling his hips. He watches Harry's face intently, as if trying to read his mind.

“How does it feel?”

“Good,” he slurs, surprised by how his tongue refuses to co-operate. He spasms around the dildo. Eyelids heavy as he watches Louis watch him. His lips are swollen slick.

He gets in a particularly good thrust, hitting his prostate and he slumps over Louis' chest, mouth open over his shoulder.

“Keep going,” Louis urges, hands steady at his hips. He wishes he were riding Louis right now, not this small piece of silicone, but it has to do. He grinds it into his prostate, shivering at the stimulation. The way he's slumped his cock rubs against Louis' stomach and the friction seems to help.

He thrusts against it, the skin of Louis' belly hot and dry. Louis coaxing him gently, words dripping like honey against the back of his neck. He keeps circling the dildo and he's almost peaking-- almost, but not quite. His chest aflame and spit drooling out of his mouth, wetting Louis' skin.

Without warning, Louis' moves his hands to his arse, spreading them over the cheeks. He grabs them forcefully and digs his nails in. That does it; leaves Harry gasping as he comes against his belly and clenches around the too small dildo.

He's still spasming when Louis tips him backward so he lays on his back. He grips Harry's dick, jerking it through the last of his spurts, making sure he stays hard. His grasp electric. Harry shouts at the sensation, skin sizzling under Louis' touch.

Harry lets go and his arms drop next to him. He doesn't have to move, Louis taking the dildo out and tossing it off the bed. He replaces it with three of his fingers, a sudden and powerful thrust that Harry arches into.

It's a lot, his arse and cock and all of him still sensitive, and he keens under the touch. Arching into it, or away from it; he can't be sure. His jaw is slack, breath rattling out of his chest.

“Babe, you're doing so well. Look so beautiful like this.”

Louis' voice is porous, sinking into his skin down into his bones. It's all Harry can do not to curl into it. He pinches one of Harry's nipples with his free hand, twisting it a bit harder than he has before and Harry continues to whimper.

“Ready for number two?” He asks, and Harry thinks he nods. He does something with his head, at least, that must indicate yes, because Louis folds his legs and brings them to his chest. “Keep them in place.”

He has a purpose now, fingers tightly gripping his shins, keeping his legs spread.

The head of Louis' cock presses against Harry's hole carefully, and if he was able to move he'd be pushing against it, wanting more. It's slow, so slow, and it's like everything slows down to the way his flesh parts for Louis.

“Lou…” he hears himself say, and Louis presses all the way in, hips nestled against the back of Harry's thighs.

He’s filled with cotton, head swimming pleasantly. He can feel his body being worked over, the heavy weight of Louis against him, inside of him. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His heart, thumping heavily against his chest, leather straps against his chest reminding him of where he ends and Louis begins.

He's not in a rush anymore, brain melting and eyes unable to focus on anything other than Louis' face. The way his brow is furrowed in concentration. He looks consumed, by him, by Harry, and his mouth stretches wide into a grin. Harry did this to him. His belly fluttering and tightening at the thought. The satisfaction fills him entirely, making him feel weightless.

He doesn’t try to control himself, completely at Louis’ mercy.

“Wish I could keep you like this always, you'd like that wouldn't you?” He says, and pulls out before thrusting back in, splitting Harry open perfectly.

He can only whine in response, managing to get variations of Louis' name out along with grunts that sound distant to his ears. He’s just a vessel for Louis to use, just a body made of nerve endings and fierce adoration.

“Louis,” he says with a grin, briefly trying to pet his face. His arm drops back down when Louis nails another thrust, and Harry surrenders to it.

Louis has a tight grip on his hips and pulls Harry onto his cock, managing to graze past his prostate on every thrust. It makes him shudder, the sensation hitting him from afar.

Harry’s fairly certain he’s making some sort of noise, mouth open and slack. His chest rumbling, his arms shaking. His belly is wet, wetter than before, and Louis' hand is tight around his cock.

It almost burns with how sensitive it is, Louis' calloused fingers rough against his tender skin.

“Kitten?” Louis’ voice comes from afar, hand cradling his jaw. Harry feels empty, which means Louis' must've slipped out of him, and he grunts his disapproval. “One more, babe, just one more. Think you can handle it?”

If it's something Louis wants, he's sure he can take it, despite the way his body feels aflame. He’s just here for him to use, and he wants to be used however Louis sees fit. He nods seriously, biting down on his lips until he tastes copper.

“None of that, kitten,” Louis reprimands, thumb pressing against his mouth. “Don't want to ruin your beautiful mouth do we?”

Harry shakes his head, because that's the right thing to do, and he's rewarded with Louis' mouth hot against his. His tongue pressing in and swiping along his own. He could melt into it, just stay like this for hours.

Louis' hand is relentless on his cock, and the pain is slowly morphing into sparks of pleasure. Each one weaving its way through every fibre of his being. He doesn't know when it happened, but he let go of his legs, instead hooking his arms around Louis' neck. Clinging for dear life.

“So good for me like this, you can give me one more, can't you?” Louis presses tender kisses along his neck, catching the edge of his collar, and he shivers uncontrollably.

He doesn't know that he can, but he knows Louis won't stop until he does. “Yesh,” he slurs. He wants to be good, so he chases Louis' touch as he strips his cock, each touch bringing him closer.

“There you go, so beautiful, so gorgeous, so perfect,” Louis keeps murmuring. He starts sucking at the base of Harry's throat, the feeling sinking into his pulse and Harry cries out loudly as he comes for a third time, body going limp immediately.

Louis lets go of his cock, hands framing Harry's face. “You're so perfect, so gorgeous, so good, you know that don't you, kitten?”

Harry wants to roll around in the praise, and he wants to be closer, so much so that he tips them over, landing on Louis' torso.

His chest shakes under him, a laughter like music to his ears. “Alright babe, I think you did well, didn't you?”

He pets alongside Harry's hair, thumb pressing in circles under his ear. He keeps going until Harry's breath evens out and he comes to, noticing that Louis' is still hard under him.

“You're still hard,” he says, and he tries to squeeze Louis' cock. Louis pushes his hand away.

He presses a close mouthed kiss to Harry's nose. “That was just for you, babe.”

“Lou, please,” he says, although he's not sure that he could handle doing much. But the thought of Louis not coming is distressing.

“Shh, shh, okay, I didn't realise it would upset you, I'm sorry, babe.” The regret is evident in his voice. His hands are gentle on Harry's shoulders as he pushes against them. “Why don't you lean back and I can come on your tummy?”

He does, and Louis kneels against him, pressing his cock against Harry's come covered skin. It slides easily and Harry watches him go. Chest flushed at the effort. He always talks about how beautiful Harry is, but he must know Harry feels the same about him.

“You're so hot Lou,” he says and Louis' breath catches. His face brightens up with a smile.

“Yeah?” He thrusts harder, cockhead catching against Harry's bellybutton. Harry presses his palm against it to add some friction and Louis' hips stutter as he keeps going. It's the least he can do, body limp and heavy under Louis' touch.

“Most gorgeous man in the world.”

Louis comes at that, another thick coat of come coating Harry's belly.

“Fuck,” he says, before collapsing next to Harry. “This was supposed to be for you.”

“That's exactly what I wanted.” He means it, Christ does he mean it.

He latches on to Louis, weight settling against his side, as if they could meld together. Louis doesn't seem to mind, hitching his arm up higher so he can get closer.

“Want to shower?” Harry shakes his head. He's sweaty, and will probably get sticky overnight, but the last thing he wants is to get up. “'Kay, we've got to get you out of these, though?”

Harry stiffens up when Louis' fingers catch against his collar. Quietly he says, “Not that.”

He's surprised Louis could hear him, but he lets go immediately, flattening his hand against his spine. “Want to sleep in it?”

“No, just-- I don't want it off just yet.” He mumbles it against Louis' skin but he seems to hear nonetheless, palm a warm steadying weight as he strokes his back.

They stay like that for a while, smooshed together comfortably, until Harry's mouth felt dry, He must've smacked his lips, because Louis was quick to bring a water bottle to his mouth. Must’ve had it tucked away since earlier.

He drank it greedily, sitting up. He doesn't say anything, moving to unbuckle his collar on his own. Louis keeping a steady hand on his thigh, thumb raking just below his cuffs.

“Want me to put it away?” He asks, and Harry nods handing it over. He takes off his suspenders and harness on his own, and Louis takes those as well. He brings them into the en suite-- no doubt to wipe them down later. He returns with flannels, and Harry spreads himself out on the bed, ready for the attention.

His skin is humming with delight, relishing Louis' gentle touch. Each wipe is followed by the soft press of lips. Each one sending a pleasant shiver down to his veins. He sighs happily.

 

//

 

"Feeling better?" Louis asks, and Harry stills at the stove. He didn’t expect Louis to be up for another half hour. Having gotten up with a rumbling stomach and with the uncontrollable urge to make them breakfast.

Of course, Louis must've sensed his absence. It gives him a small thrill, knowing that Louis probably woke up because he'd left the bed. Louis strokes the back of Harry's neck, and the fine hairs stand at attention.

"I was fine last night. More than fine. I was quite certain you knew that?"

Louis chuckles, biting his lip. He tugs at Harry's shirt-- one of Louis' that he grabbed from the hamper. He wanted to carry his smell with him, still craving some closeness.

"That's not what I mean. Did it help? To clear your head?”

"How did you..."

Louis tilts his head. "You really think I can't tell when something's bothering you?"

He hip checks Harry at the hob, taking the handle of the pan from him, angling Harry towards him.

"You didn't ask."

"Not gonna pressure you to talk about something you're not ready for, am I? You seemed to know what you wanted. And you got it." He punctuates his sentence by wiggling his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose.

"As if you didn't." Harry teases.

"Oh, I'm not complaining in the slightest. But it wasn't for me, was it?" A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He turns his attention back to the frying pan, using the spatula to flip the eggs.

“I am better, yeah.”

Louis hums. He twists his head, mouth finding Harry's pulse point on his neck. Mouthing wetly at it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Just. Film stuff. S’weird not being in control, you know?” He scratches his head, the spot where Louis pressed his mouth still burning. “Didn't think about it much while we were filming, but now that I've got nothing to do it's just. All I can think about. Or well, could think about.”

“And here I thought you quite liked not being in control.” Louis smirks and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Very funny. It does help though, yeah. Like. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, it will. You’re brilliant. And anyone who can’t see that is a bloody nitwit.”

He tilts his face up, inviting Harry in for a kiss. He obliges. Both of them still have morning breath, but it’s familiar and easy. He nips Louis’ lower lip with his teeth.

“That was uncalled for.” He waves the spatula in Harry’s face, his smile belying his mood.

“Was it?” He narrows his eyes. Louis bites the inside of his cheek, menace in his eyes. It’s incredibly endearing. Adorable, even.

He slides behind Louis, hooking his arms around his waist. He hunches down so he can lean his chin on Louis' shoulder, and watch as he pushes the eggs onto a plate, and drops sausages into the pan.

"You're going to strain your back if you stand like that," Louis says, but doesn't try to move out of Harry's grasp. He presses his chest closer to his back, wanting to feel the pounding of Louis' heart against his. He can almost feel his pulse against his cheek.

"Thank Christ I have a boyfriend who could moonlight as a massage therapist then," he says, and Louis snorts.

He's right, of course. His neck and back will hurt if he stands like this for a while. But Louis fits perfectly against his chest, his hair tickling Harry's cheek.

They can stay like this a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
